Cornered

by Turner, Linda; Weaver, Ingrid; Miller, Julie

  “Hey, careful, Red.” He stepped behind her, his chest brushing against her shoulders as he steadied her.

  Another jab of recognition, another spurt of adrenaline. It was astounding how much this criminal reminded her of Sloan. He was precisely the same height Sloan had been. Her body wanted to soften and lean into his. They had always fitted together so perfectly.

  She gritted her teeth and raised her head. She had managed to slide the blindfold upward an inch on one side before Max had stopped her, so she did a quick scan through one eye. They were on a railed-in walkway about forty feet above the deck. The fog was like gauze, spinning a fuzzy halo around the floodlight that was fixed to one corner of the bridge. More light shone from below, where a group of men worked on some machinery beside huge, horizontal doors that angled outward from a cavernous space.

  Were those what Leavish had meant by hatch covers? Was this where Dick had fallen?

  She flicked her gaze in front of her and saw a gap in the railing. Her memory of the route had served her well—they were only a few steps from the staircase. She also saw that Leavish was indeed short. He had the buzz cut of a marine recruit and a baby-face profile. She ducked her head again as he glanced back at her so he wouldn’t notice her crooked blindfold.

  Erika’s pulse tripped with anticipation as she watched Leavish’s work boots move to the head of the stairs. She inhaled carefully, tensing her muscles, preparing to break for freedom the instant Max loosened his hold.

  Max dipped his head next to hers. “Don’t even think about it, Riki,” he whispered.

  She jerked, as much from the shock of his breath on her ear as from his words.

  “Wates has guards at the gangplank and on the pier,” he continued, still in a whisper. He pinched the edge of her blindfold and tugged it back into place. “Stay with me if you want to stay alive.”

  Damn, how had he guessed?

  Then again, if she had figured out this was the best spot for an escape attempt, Max had probably figured it out, too. So much for the element of surprise—

  Good God.

  He had called her Riki.

  “Problems, Mr. Tanner?” Leavish asked, pausing on the stairs.

  “No,” Max replied. “Lead on.”

  Erika’s knees wobbled as she moved forward. She couldn’t have heard him right. Only three people in the world had ever called her Riki. Her mother, Uncle Hector and…

  Sloan.

  How would some switchblade-packing arms smuggler know Riki was one of her nicknames?

  Simple. The name of Sloan’s boat had been mentioned in his obituary.

  But why had Max whispered that warning at all?

  It was a head game. Classic good cop/bad cop technique. He wanted to put her off guard before he questioned her by pretending he was on her side. Not that he was a cop, but anyone who watched Law and Order would know about how they worked. Or maybe Max had learned the technique because it had been used on him.

  After all, what other explanation could there be?

  Oh boy, was that the wrong question. Erika’s heart clamored with alternative answers to it, but she had to use her head.

  She placed her foot on the first step.

  “The new boots might be sexy, Red,” Max said. “But they look lethal.” He grasped her by the waist, turned her to face him and bent down to slip one arm behind her legs.

  “What are you doing?”

  He flipped her over his shoulder and straightened up. “Making sure we all get down that staircase in one piece. Keep clear of her feet, Leavish,” he said. “Those heels could do serious damage to your head.”

  “I’ve got her covered.”

  “Yeah, great, but point that somewhere else. Wates said he didn’t want any more accidents, so he wouldn’t want you hitting me by mistake, would he?”

  “Sorry, Mr. Tanner.”

  Locking his arm around her thighs to hold her in place, Max started down the staircase.

  Erika gasped and clutched the back of his raincoat between her hands. Blood rushed into her head, along with a flood of memories.

  Sloan had carried her like this the last time they’d been at the beach. They’d had less clothes on then, but they’d both been laughing too hard to concentrate on all the naked contact. She had lost a bet—she couldn’t remember now what it had been about—and her penalty had been a dunk in the surf. It was the only time she had actually enjoyed going in the water.

  She’d known that Sloan wouldn’t have let her go under. She trusted him completely.

  Max carried her to the bottom of the stairs and shifted her smoothly to her feet.

  Erika leaned over, braced her joined wrists on her thighs and fought to catch her breath. She could still feel the slide of Sloan’s skin against hers and the jouncing from his laughter against her stomach.

  Max resumed his handcuff-hold on her arm. “You’re heavier than you look, baby.” He tugged her upright. “You must have been hitting the chocolate pretty hard.”

  Leavish snickered and started off once more.

  Erika shoved aside the memories and focused on keeping her footing on the wet deck as Max guided her forward. His comment hadn’t made sense. He had picked her up and carried her effortlessly—even through his clothes, she had felt the easy play of his muscles. And she’d never been heavy. She’d been blessed with a metabolism that burned off whatever she ate. During the past year, she had eaten less than usual and had ended up dropping ten pounds. Why had he remarked on her weight unless…?

  Unless he’d deliberately wanted to bring up the subject of chocolate.

  Sloan knew how she loved it. He used to kid her about how easy she was to shop for. Every birthday, Christmas and Valentine’s Day he’d never failed to bring her something decadently rich and delicious. Not that he waited for a special occasion to indulge her. There had been one weekend morning that final October together when his idea of breakfast in bed had been a jar of chocolate sauce. He had shared it with her in the most creative way.

  Erika realized with a start that she had lost track of how far they had come. Had that been Max’s intention? Had he been trying to distract her so she wouldn’t think of attempting an escape?

  Yes, that must be it. He was trying to distract her. He must have realized she had a fondness for chocolate because he’d found the Hershey’s bar in her coat pocket.

  And he’d carried her to be sure she didn’t have the chance to kick Leavish or to get away from him on the stairs.

  And he’d called her Riki to mess with her mind.

  The deck rang with the tread of several pairs of boots. Someone called out to Max as the group passed, something about installing the new winch cable. She heard other voices from her left, in the direction she’d assumed led to the shore. Those voices probably belonged to the guards Max had cautioned her about.

  She hadn’t seen that Leavish was carrying a weapon, but from what Max had said, she had to conclude Leavish was armed, too. She wouldn’t have gotten far if she had made a break for it. She might even have been killed.

  Stay with me if you want to stay alive.

  Okay. Whatever his motives, Max didn’t want her dead right away, and he was already proving to be her best bet for staying alive.

  Good. Fine. Max was prolonging her survival, which was essential if she wanted to escape. That explained why she no longer wanted to run from him. It was why she didn’t protest when he did the caveman toss-over-the-shoulder thing again and carried her down the next staircase.

  Yet could she explain why her pulse was continuing to accelerate at his touch, his smell and the sound of his walk? Was there a reason for this mad spurt of hope and the sudden lightness she felt in her chest and the growing excitement that was battering at her senses?

  Once again, Erika’s heart shouted the answers.

  Well, certainly. There was another way to put together the clues: Max had carried her down the stairs because he hadn’t wanted her to catch her heel in the grating an
d break her neck. He’d mentioned chocolate because he’d wanted to give her a private signal. If she thought about it, he’d been trying to give her signals since he’d shown up. And he’d called her Riki because he’d realized no one else could hear him and he’d known that would get her attention.

  Sure, believing her lover’s ghost had come back from the dead to help her was insane. It was right ’round the bend, nutso, loony-tunes crazy.

  But this Sloan sighting wasn’t anything like the others. He hadn’t disappeared into thin air when she’d chased him past the warehouse, he’d come on board this ship. This was no shadow or hallucination or figment of her imagination. The man who held her arm and walked behind her was solid flesh and blood.

  Max wasn’t Sloan’s ghost.

  Max was Sloan.

  Chapter 5

  In a way, allowing herself to acknowledge what her heart had been telling her all along was a relief. It was like the one and only time Erika had gone skydiving. The worst part had been standing in the doorway of the plane, feeling the wind on her face, watching the earth scroll past beneath the wing, wondering if she was about to do the stupidest thing in her life.

  Regarded logically, voluntarily jumping out of a plane was insane. Nothing was ever a hundred-percent certain. There was always the chance of an error that could quickly turn deadly, and yet…

  And yet there was nothing quite as invigorating as that moment when the decision was made. The point of no return. One instant her fingers had been gripping the solid sides of the hatch and her feet planted firmly on the floor of the fuselage. The next instant, she had launched herself into the air with nothing for certain except gravity.

  She had screamed all the way down.

  Her instructor had refused to take her up again when he’d heard rumors about her hallucinations and had found out that she was in grief counseling. Understandably, he’d been worried about his liability if she chose not to pull the rip cord the next time.

  Yet those reckless, terrifying, exhilarating seconds had been worth every shriek. They were moments out of time, a taste of total freedom. An affirmation of her ability to face her fear and win.

  To take a leap of faith.

  But skydiving was a stroll through the park compared to what she was contemplating now.

  Then again, what did she have to lose? Jumping from a plane that was about to crash anyway wasn’t crazy at all, was it?

  Erika took stock of her surroundings. Judging by the echo of their footsteps and from what she could see of the floor, they were progressing along a narrow corridor deep in the hold, close to the room where she’d awakened. Any moment now they might stop moving. This was as good a time as any to test her parachute. She jerked her hands to her face, shoved up her blindfold and twisted to look behind her.

  He must have been expecting it. Before she could glimpse more than the blur of a square jaw, Max grabbed the back of her head and pushed her face into his shoulder.

  Yet she didn’t need to see his face, did she? She’d already recognized him in a hundred other ways. “Sloan,” she whispered. She leaned against him, letting her body soak in the feel of his.

  Oh, yes. This had to be him. She drew in his scent on a sob. More nerve endings sparked. The reaction was overwhelming now that she was no longer fighting her instincts. “Sloan, I know—”

  “Take it easy, sweet cheeks.” His voice drowned out her whisper. “If you want to dance, I’d prefer to do it in private. Hey, Leavish.”

  “Yes, Mr. Tanner?”

  “Do you still have that duct tape?”

  Erika tried to push away from his chest but his hand held her fast.

  “It’s in my pocket,” Leavish replied. “Do you need some?”

  Max yanked her blindfold into place, spun her away from him and gripped her upper arms. “Yeah. Red’s getting feisty.”

  Had he heard her whisper? She couldn’t be sure. She had to find some way to communicate that she had understood his earlier message. “I know who you are,” Erika said aloud. “The blindfold isn’t necessary.”

  “More bluffs, Red?”

  “I’m not bluffing. I’ve been telling the truth all along.”

  Leavish’s footsteps moved in front of her. There was a hollow, ripping sound. “Want me to do her arms again?”

  “Yeah,” Max said. “Around the elbows like before so she can’t use her hands.”

  Erika jerked against Max’s grip. “No! I’m going to cooperate.”

  “Yeah, right. You would do or say anything if you thought it would give you an advantage. I know you were thinking about making a break for it back there. We don’t want you getting yourself into more trouble. Watch out for her feet, Leavish.”

  She kicked and felt her toe connect with Leavish’s shin. “Don’t you dare put more tape on me.”

  Max gave her a quick shake. “Are you going to behave?”

  “Why won’t you listen? I did tell the truth. My fiancé knows I’m here.”

  “The dead guy?” Max asked.

  “He’s not dead.”

  “So you carry his obituary around for a joke?”

  “He’s a cop. He used the reports of his death to disappear so he could work undercover.”

  Erika’s words dropped into a sudden silence. She hadn’t realized she was going to say them until they were out. She hadn’t even realized until now that she’d thought them, but it was the only explanation possible.

  Sloan was the most dedicated cop she knew. He was also the most protective man she knew. If he hadn’t really drowned the last time he’d taken out the Riki B., then he would have to have a good reason to let everyone think he had.

  A shipload of stolen Stinger missiles would be a damn good reason. If Sloan had assumed the identity of Max Tanner in order to stop a criminal like Wates, he would have needed to immerse himself in his role completely. Contacting anyone from his former life would have put them as well as himself in danger.

  And he would have known that if he’d told Erika what he’d been doing, she wouldn’t have been content to sit on the sidelines. She would have insisted on helping him.

  Yes! The theory wasn’t merely possible, it was plausible. He’d let her believe he was dead for her own protection.

  But it had been a year. She’d been through hell. Couldn’t he have given her some hint?

  Max laughed. It was sharp and sardonic, nothing like Sloan’s deep rumble. “You had all this time to dream up a new story. Is that the best you could do?”

  Leavish cleared his throat. “Do you still want the extra tape?”

  “Forget it.” Max cupped her shoulders and propelled her forward. “I think she got the message.”

  “Maybe I should tell Mr. Wates what she said about the cop,” Leavish said, falling into step behind them. “He’d want to know if someone infiltrated our operation.”

  Max reached past her and opened a door. It swung into complete darkness. “John wouldn’t believe that any more than I do.”

  “But—”

  “Leavish, if her boyfriend really was alive and working undercover with us, do you think she would volunteer that piece of information so easily?” He moved his hand to the small of Erika’s back and guided her over the raised threshold. “She’d have to know that would be signing his death warrant.”

  Erika bit her lip. Dear God, she was right! Max had to be Sloan. He’d just given her a warning that was as clear as glass.

  He knew that she knew. Yet he had to play his role as long as there was someone else around. So did she. Their lives depended on it.

  But she didn’t want to play a role. Sloan was here and he was alive and oh, God, she wanted to wrap herself around him, fit her body to his and press her lips to that special place at the base of his throat that she loved to kiss, the spot where she could feel his pulse beat beneath his skin.

  “On the other hand,” Max said. “Maybe they had a fight and she wants us to off him for her. Leavish, where’s the light switch?”<
br />
  “It’s out here. I’ll get it.”

  Thin, yellow light glowed through her blindfold. A familiar rusty, fishy smell permeated the air. Erika swallowed fast. She’d managed to stay on top of the nausea. She didn’t want it coming back now. She had to concentrate.

  As long as they weren’t alone, she couldn’t touch Sloan. Yet she’d prayed every night for a year to have another chance to talk to him.

  Against all odds, here it was.

  “Sloan and I are a perfect match,” she said. “We rarely argue.”

  “Sure. With that hair?” Max led her to a low wooden crate and pressed on her shoulders until she sat. “I never met a redhead who didn’t have a mean temper.”

  “I love him,” she said. “He knows that.”

  Max stood in front of her, his feet braced apart. “Babe, give it up. The guy’s dead.”

  “It makes no difference. I still love him. I never stopped.”

  “Terrific. So he was a paragon.”

  “Hardly,” she said. “Sloan had plenty of faults. He was stubborn and overprotective and short on patience. He had trouble compromising and he hogged the blankets and he left the toilet seat up but I wouldn’t want him any other way. We fit. He was the other half of me.” She felt a lump in her throat. “He never really left me. I see him everywhere.”

  “Skip the sob fest, Red,” Max muttered. “This isn’t Oprah.”

  She heard a faint thread of voices float through the doorway. Leavish’s boots scuffed on the floor near the threshold. Any minute they could be interrupted, but there was so much more she wanted to say. Needed to say. “That’s why I still wear his ring. It’s a symbol of my faith in our love. Sloan and I—”

  “You’re getting way off topic,” Max said.

  “You told your friend upstairs you were going to get the truth out of me. That’s what I’m giving you.”

  “Baby, there are plenty of things I’d like you to give me.” He took a step closer and reached out to stroke his knuckles along the edge of her jaw. “But we have some business to take care of first, for me and my friend upstairs. Quit stalling.”